A Different Feeling
by bittersweetmelody47
Summary: Hermione helps Fred with the ache in his hand after his detention with Umbridge, and it sparks new feelings about her from him. FHr. Oneshot. Spoilers mostly for OotP movie.


**A Different Feeling**

by: bittersweetmelody47

It was him and Hermione in the Common Room that night. Her reading a book and he working on his order forms. Not likely people to sit near each other, but it didn't matter to him.

He thinks a bit, trying to ignore the painful tingling in his hand.

'Evil old hag.' He thinks angrily.

Of course, he always knew there was the chance Umbridge would catch him at something. Anything, really. There were so many rules to follow; every hour there was a new decree... the wall of the entrance hall was practically covered with them.

Of course, he knew any selling or show of his products were banned. But some first and second years wanted some demonstrations from him and George with the fireworks. One look at their eager faces and he couldn't say no. They had quite a show going, even some students in higher years had come to look. But once a small crowd forms, Umbridge comes running. And come running she did.

She gave him and George detention, and at first they shrugged at the thought of it. They had gone through detentions enough for ten people throughout their years at Hogwarts. But they both had no idea what exactly the detention entailed.

He scowls at the memory. The way the lines etched themselves into your skin, and wrote themselves with your own blood as ink was disgusting, and more painful than anyone could imagine. But he and George refused to give Umbridge the satisfaction of expressions full of pain; they just glared up at where she sat with that damn smirk upon her face that told you that you deserved it. She's mad, and she should be arrested and put away.

George had stalked off angrily to bed after the detention was over, but Fred just couldn't sleep.

Perhaps he should have refrained from doing that demonstration; should have told the kids sorry, but he couldn't.

But he had never been the type to follow rules.

He twirls his quill, neglecting his forms for the time being, but the quill suddenly slips out of his fingers and drops to the floor. It makes no sound since the floor is rugged, but as he bends down to pick it up he still looks over at Hermione in armchair at the far right.

Naturally, she was still deeply immersed in her book, her finger idly twirling a strand of her wavy brown hair.

She had already been sitting there when he came in from the detention. She had probably been there for hours, and hadn't even noticed. When he had sat down she had looked up at him and smiled lightly, uttering a simple "Hello." He had greeted her back just as nicely, despite the frustrated mood he was in, and she had returned her attention to her book.

He'd overheard a lot of boys say that she was nothing worth looking at, but really, he would have to disagree. She had a natural beauty, if it was indeed plainer than the few girls he had dated in the past. Her skin was smooth and white, her waves of hair reaching her shoulders, in which she put up in various hairstyles from day to day. A couple of days ago half of it was pulled up in a barrette. Yesterday, a braid. But tonight, she simply left it alone, resting against the top of her blue t-shirt. Her eyes are the color of milky chocolate, and they darkened and lightened based on her mood. But no matter what, they steadfastly shine, and he suspects they would continue to even in the darkness.

His fingers enclose around the quill as he studies her expression. She was always so determined looking when reading; almost a hungry sort of look gleamed in her face as she devoured the words splayed across the pages of the books she loved so much. He's not much of a reader himself, never has been, to be honest, so he can't begin to understand why she clings to books so much. But he supposes it must provide as much excitement for her as an idea for a prank or a new product would provide for him. And that he can understand.

And as she continues to play with her hair he realizes that even though she may not be the most astonishingly beautiful girl in school, it doesn't matter, really. She really is beautiful in a way he prefers, and if those other guys couldn't see that, it's their loss.

He snaps out of his reverie when his notebook slides out of his lap and lands right on where his hand is resting against the quill.

He can't help it; he curses, pushing the notebook aside and wrenching his hand back, rubbing it. The throbbing had faded minutes ago, but now the pain was back, due to the heavy weight of the notebook.

'Great.' He thinks bitterly, still caressing his hand. 'Now it's a million times worse.'

He feels eyes upon him and he looks up to see Hermione staring at him right back. Her face was concerned; her eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you all right?"

He nods, sighing. " Yeah, it's just..."

He trails off, but it doesn't matter, for he sees her calculating eyes take notice of the red marks on his hand.

"Oh." Realization tinges her tone. " Detention with Umbridge?"

"Yeah." He couldn't prevent the bitterness in his voice.

She closes her book with a snap and gets up, leaving it in the chair in her place. He watches as she walks up to him boldly, a manner that suits her quite well.

She takes his hand in hers and he is still silent as she studies it, inwardly smiling at the way she smirks a little at the line etched into his hand.

He suspects that she disapproves at what he did to get this punishment. Perhaps she even thinks that he deserves it.

But when she meets his eyes, they are instead blazing with heated anger.

"That evil woman." She mutters in distaste, and he is surprised.

" I have something that will stop the pain." She continues, but now her voice is soft and comforting. " Wait here. I'll be right back."

And she lets go of his hand, swiftly walking away and up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

For the time being, he tries to ignore the new tingling in his hand that she had added, when she took his hand in hers.

He does not have to wait long. Within a moment she is back, her hands clutching a small bowl filled with some kind of vibrant yellow liquid.

He expects her to merely hand the bowl to him, but he is taken aback, for she carefully takes his hand in hers again, and guides it into the liquid in the bowl.

The effect is immediate, an overwhelming feeling of relief. The liquid was very cool, soothing his pain quicker and quicker until there was no more pain to be felt.

He meets her gaze again and he sees that by her smile she senses his relief. " It's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles. I usually make them for Harry, when he comes back from his detentions. But you seem to need it more right now."

'And she's caring.' He thought. ' A great quality in a girl.'

He grins at her gratefully. "Thanks a lot."

A light blush rises to her face, and he finds that he really likes it. " You're welcome."

She leaves the bowl carefully perched on the arm of the armchair, which he then moves to rest on his lap, his hand buried deep in the contents of it.

She walks over to her chair and picks up her book, holding it to her chest with her left arm, the other arm dangling limply at her side.

She turns to face him.

"I'm going to bed." She declares. " Good night."

He nods at her, smiling. "Good night."

She smiles softly back at him and leaves him alone in the Common Room.

Her smile was the best he had ever seen in a girl, and it's clear when she really means her smiles, for her eyes light up like flashlights. He didn't think it was even possible for her eyes to light up even more.

He realizes, then, that she wasn't anywhere near plain. Not at all.

His notebook still lies on the floor, along with his quill, but he doesn't care, for he's not thinking of them.

And he still tries to ignore the different kind of tingling in his hand.

Fin


End file.
